The Pay-Back
by EdyFerrone
Summary: There's this one Slytherin girl who is turning Brittany's life into living hell; but what goes around come all the way back around. (Ravenclaw!Brittany, Slytherin!Santana).


**Ship:** Brittany/Santana.

**Rating: **Nc-17/M.

**Summary: **There's this one Slytherin girl who is turning Brittany's life into living hell; but what goes around come all the way back around. (Ravenclaw!Brittany, Slytherin!Santana).

**Warnings: **semi-public sex, angry sex.

**A/N:** Please, notice that some locations in the Harry Potter Saga have different names in my language. I've searched most of them on the Internet, but I can't remember if I've managed to give a proper translation to all of them.

Also, I wrote this almost a year ago, and I have to warn you that my writing was very different and it was my first Brittana shot! Although I'm not a good writer now either lol, I wasn't as "good" as I am now!

I hope you like it anyway :3 – xoxo

**Beta:** Amanda908565.

* * *

**The Pay-Back**

The Great Hall is an insurrection of euphoria.

Santana can hear the voices of her House fellows amusing themselves with silly things she doesn't care about, especially if her attention is constantly pointed in one direction, as she stares at that bizarre girl, which she can pull her eyes off of anymore.

Her eyes wander along the tables and it takes very little before she's looking at Brittany S. Pierce, Ravenclaw.

She's surprised at how often it happens: during lessons, Quidditch games, just walking around Hogwarts, Santana's eyes are often pointed at her, but it's not really positive, at least not for the raven-haired Hispanic girl, indeed.

As soon as she meets her figure, her mind skips again automatically to the question she's been wondering about for long: how could useless creatures continue to breathe the air that should have been reserved for worthy people, such as Santana, her family, her House?

She's way too surprised, in fact, by the way in which the girl manages to get her attention anyway.

Brittany is laughing in the distance, joking with Artie, that guy with glasses who is, if possible, even more useless than her. The girl's laughs sound so crisp that they're perfectly distinguishable even in the total chaos that fills the Hall.

Santana is sure that she has noticed her mean looks because she has caught Brittany returning the gaze a couple of times, and then Brittany definitely knows who she is because they're at the same year and pretty much follow the same lessons, at least all of the mandatory ones.

The truth is that Santana hates every single person outside of her family, from Tina-tight-Asian-eyes to that pure and innocent Smythe's twin brother (she hates him in particular). However, she realizes that the girl - for reasons that are still unknown to her – causes her a sense of irritation than any other magician.

She can't understand why she makes her so sick and thinks that probably is because of her manners and weird ways or for the fact that she is laughing all the time, just as she is doing at the time, sounding terribly stupid. Well, not that she lacks reasons to hate her, but Santana would have preferred to find more valid reasons than those suggested to her mind.

"Hey, Lopez," Smythe's voice calls her, not even a half a meter away, "What are you looking at? You seem so worried …"

/

Brittany stops laughing for a moment, as soon as meets the harsh arrogant gaze: Santana Lopez, Slytherin, perpetually wears this disgusted expression on her face, as if she couldn't bear anything that is outside of her restricted House or family.

She takes the glass of pumpkin juice in front of her and takes a sip, drifting through the taste and narrowing her eyes, as if she's trying to shake off the negative feelings caused by the other girl that is staring at her on regular intervals, without even bothering to be embarrassed by the fact that she is getting caught while doing it.

She seems quite proud to show her disdain, actually.

Brittany always wonders how can Slytherins be so bad between them too? They deny themselves the small joys of life, smiles and laughter, simply because of their prejudices (she knows it's not the same for everyone and it's not fine to generalize, but sometimes her mind does it spontaneously, before she could even realize it).

_Santana Lopez_, it's always her, she is still the perfect representation of what it means not to enjoy one's to life and Brittany has no intention to be bound by her cruel mean looks, without having the courage to say a word about it: she is tired of being her victim and right now she is deciding that she wants to show her that not only she isn't a fool, but also that no one, not even a Pure-blood, can treat her like this, as if she were different, making her feel uncomfortable.

She's going to show her.

/

Likewise, on the other side of the room, sitting at that long table, Santana makes a choice: she has to stop thinking about it and concentrate on her own superiority. Every thought she addresses to a useless creature like that is nothing more than a waste of mental ability that a genius like her can't possibly afford.

Tonight she's going to go to sleep after being entertained to chat with people worthy of her attention in the common room, like Hummel and Smythe for example; she's going to close her eyes and forget about the heartburn she's forced them to, focusing on that girl she isn't even interested about.

She is sure that a good sleep is going to help her forget the strange feeling that she has pretended to ignore when those glacial eyes are focused on her, for the first time having the courage to fight back to her quiet stabbing.

Yes, she is sure. A good sleep and everything is going to be gone.

/

There is something terribly wrong with the way in which the light is hitting the Brittany's skin, it's more impetuous than it is every morning.

'What happened?' She wonders, staying for a few more seconds to stretch and rub her eyes, under the thin sheets of the bed she's been sleeping in for six years and that, before today, has never betrayed her like this.

The sun shines with insistence by the colorful windows of the castle, and when her eyes are opened completely, Brittany realizes it's really too high in the sky, much more than it should have been.

Quinn has left her to sleep?

She won't the time to think about it because these problems are going to make her delay even bigger, and she can't really skip Potions.

She jumps out of bed and almost trips between the sheets, when she leans dangerously forward in order to get her uniform, without even worrying about the way in which she has unbalanced.

She tries to wear her clothes as quick as she can, but in the frenzy of the moment, she puts them on upside down, and only when she looks in the mirror after collecting her hair in a high ponytail, she realizes it. She snorts and has to repeat all operations from the beginning.

She is losing precious seconds to even think about it when the only thing that she do is run to the door in a rush, perhaps even still wearing her pajamas.

It's really late, _too_ late and she can't waste any time indulging on reflections on psychological problems that involved putting on her clothes like that, because, she knows it's a coincidence dictated by her hurry and not a mental disorder.

She pulls out of the dorm finally, as she can't help but wonder why the hell Quinn hasn't woke her up this morning, since she does it every day. She must have had a good distraction for not realizing the weigh it could have on Brittany's school career, maybe some nice distraction known as Rachel Barbra Berry, Gryffindor, which, lately, seems to attract her attention more than anything else or any existing person.

But Brittany has no idea why such a thing should mess with her academic grades.

/

She walks along the large hallway, noticing that her steps resound all over the place loudly since she is the only one walking towards the class. Which makes her understand how late she actually really is.

When she reaches for the door of the class, something gets her attention. Someone else is late too. She stands there with her body hanging, like she doesn't know if she is going to knock or just walk away.

Brittany coughs to get her attention and Santana's dark eyes immediately turn to her, sending immediate daggers to her and not even granting a wave of her hand before she's letting her hate wash over her like every single day.

Brittany steps closer to her, slowly, and tries to smile and shrug. She can be better than her, she can act like a better person because she is got a morality.

"I don't think walking in now is a good idea," She suggests even, before she grabs of her blond strands out of her tight pony-tale and starts playing with it, "I'm afraid what Emma Pillsbury might assign us as a punishment if we stopped her lesson to walk in."

Santana looks smugly at her from head to toes, lifting an eyebrow while she does: Brittany is not even worthy of this gaze; that means she surely isn't going to pay attention to her opinion of course.

"Wow, so you think we should just wait out here forever?" She snaps unkindly, "Seriously? That's really a great plan, genius. I'm sure someone's planning to cut your brain out and make it heritage of the Ministry of Magic."

Santana isn't even worried about the words she uses because it's already that much that she's talking to this girl.

"I think it's better to avoid getting punished," Brittany tries to ignore it because she knows her words are much of a trap, "if we don't get there, she won't know why we weren't there." She pulls out, like it's a good explanation for her plans.

Also, she is quite sure that Quinn will realize that she isn't there, like the good prefect she is – actually, it's her fault partly – so probably some Slytherin friend of Santana is going to do the same with her.

Santana shrugs playing indifferent, but she feels a little unsure. The grinning happy girl skip Potions? She didn't look like that kind of girl and yet …

"Okay." She answers, but not going to give her the satisfaction to tell her she is right, _she would never do that_. "So, if you don't mind … I'm going to go somewhere else so that I can avoid breathing the same air as you do."

And that's when Brittany can't keep it anymore.

"What did I do to you exactly?" She knows she isn't exactly the kind of girl who understands everything immediately and that stares at color of a tie: she just thinks it is right to _love_ everyday, anyone. It's clear that Santana's vision of the world can't really coincide with her.

Santana shrugs again and this time she also tightens her eyelids.

"What did _you_ do?" She asks sharply. "Do you actually realize that the simple fact that you exist insults my blood?" She sounds mean even though these blue eyes are staring at her innocently.

"Just because I'm a half-blood bicorn it doesn't mean I don't deserve being here in Hogwarts, just like you." Brittany claims proudly, keep on wearing that innocent good expression on her face, even though it looks little offended (as much as it can look offended actually) at the words.

Brittany really can't understand this crazy double standards conviction; if they all got a letter for Hogwarts, it means they're all meant to be wizards, with no distinction. So what is exactly the reason to act like this? It just makes everything meaner and hateful when Hogwarts is supposed to be a place where anyone can feel protected and safe.

But Santana is already shaking her head: what's the point in keep talking? Brittany is not going to understand anyway. Santana is even thinking she might be stupid or something.

"Of course. You deserve this," She says ironically, lifting her eyebrow uncontrollably, "so now you can just walk away and make my day better, how about that?" She asks sharply and clearly mean.

"Well, okay. You're Slytherin and I'm Ravenclaw, but this school doesn't belong to you!" Brittany says insisting, like she wants to challenge Santana and she isn't even considering walking away from her for now.

Her intentions are to avoid answering like this, but Santana has played this game for long now and Brittany is tired of being treated like she isn't worth it.

Santana can't keep back from the challenge clearly. She would have preferred walking away and ignoring her, that would have surely made anything easier and wouldn't have made her waste her time; and yet, there's something keeping her here. It's probably her pride and Brittany can't really step on it.

"Well, it surely doesn't belong to you either." She replies before she's wincing at her, like she always does. "And it couldn't since what I get is that you're not even a real witch." She adds and well, she actually sounds mean this time. Santana doesn't even lower her chin though, like she doesn't care how much her words might hurt Brittany.

"You're just a …" Brittany keeps from saying something too bad because she wouldn't want to get to cheap. It's so hurtful that someone might doubt about the blood running through her veins, she's just like her.

"What?" Santana says immediately, challenging tone filling her voice. "Don't you dare try ending that sentence." She threatens. "You shouldn't even be allowed to talk to me like this."

That's exactly what Santana thinks. Brittany shouldn't even have the guts to look into her eyes. And yet she is doing it. Something about this makes Santana hesitate for a moment, but then Brittany throws it all back in her face.

"You're a bitch!" Brittany exclaims, breathing harshly, like she feels freer now that she's said it out loud. "Because you surely have something against me and you hide it between this ridiculous blood thing. You just hate me because I can be myself and you would want it to. I know how to smile, you can't." She says angrily, looking as Santana widens her eyes.

"W-what?" She asks, having no idea about why she's stuttering all of a sudden. "Are you accusing me of … being jealous _of you?_" She says in shock. "I have _nothing_ to be jealous of. You're just a silly girl who lives on illusions-"

"You are the one who lives on illusions." Brittany says, barely smiling, like she's trying to hide the nerves because she knows that a girl like Santana, a proud Slytherin, will never admit that this is just the truth.

"Oh let's hear this …" Santana answers sharply, putting her hands on her hips, "What are my illusions, Ms. I Smile All the Time? Explain it to me, because I really have no idea what my illusions are about."

"Do you realize that you practically feel invulnerable just because you're uniform is made of a different color?" Brittany asks, calmer and looking curious. "That's not true though. You think you're better than anybody just because you're a Slytherin, but you actually don't know how hard-working, serious and careful other students can be. You just think you can make our lives a living hell, don't you?" She asks rhetorically, tilting her head on the side.

"First of all," Santana answers immediately, lifting her eyebrow, "this is not about Houses. Not that I don't realize how inferior you are for that too, but this mainly about blood." She notices, looking at Brittany like she's sick or something. And then, for a moment she's hesitating again before she shakes it off. "You shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts."

"Why would that be?" Brittany asks disappointed: she can't believe someone might treat her like this for the way she's born. "I was born this way and if I got my letter, then it means I have something inside me and my blood too." She says easily, proud of whom she is.

Santana rolls her eyes then: she has no idea how this girl can believe this. In her eyes, there's only of existing truth.

"Your blood is polluted." She says, smirking mean. "But since it's too late to get in now, I'd rather spend my time better. You wouldn't understand anyway, even if you tried." She tries to get rid of Brittany again, but she does succeed it.

"Are you implying I'm stupid?" Brittany asks, looking even more annoyed. They're moving to personal insults even. Things are getting worse.

"Did I say it?" Santana asks, wondering which is the reason why she is still losing her time over this girl she hates so much. By now she should have already been walking away from her. "If you thought it, there's a reason."

She doesn't care how childish she sounds, not even a bit.

She just wants to shut her up because the girl isn't even supposed to be talking to her like this.

And though, there's this moment when a cold icy tear suddenly runs along Brittany's cheek, making her blue eyes shine dimly. As soon as Brittany feels it wander over her face, she turns and walks away fast, like she doesn't want Santana to see what's on her face.

She really doesn't want to her about her anymore, not after she implied _that_.

It's useless to try and communicate. It doesn't make any sense.

And Santana can even feel a little sick about herself for the way she is starting to feel sorry. She shouldn't feel anything, not for such an inferior human being who doesn't even deserve her attention, not even as she walks along the hallways, making her pony tail bump here and there and putting her hands up to her face to gather the bitter tears Santana caused on her face, it's starting to get too much.

Santana couldn't say that she is _sorry_, because that would be too much, but she doesn't even feel like lying to herself so much to believe the situation was indifferent to her.

/

After that day, Brittany had lost something inside her, that light that usually makes her different and special. She spends days thinking about her improbable future at the Ministry of Magic, knowing that dreaming isn't enough to get there.

She pants and sobs and sighs resigned: not even the bridge linking Hogwarts to the Clock Tower, with her barely standing beams can distract her from her dark thoughts.

So she walks to the courtyard, ignoring the fact that Quinn, being the prefect of Ravenclaws, was trying to scold her about something. Maybe her room isn't as clean as it should.

Brittany gestures her they'll talk about it later and she walks through the hallways.

And then she's colliding with someone.

And then she lifts her head and meets those eyes again.

And she wouldn't have wanted to meet them, ever again, after everything that happened.

"Again?" The Slytherin girl asks, sighing evidently. "I can't anymore, I swear! Can you tell me why the hell you're everywhere I turn?" She asks nervously, rolling her eyes.

"I was minding my own business." Brittany answers, trying not to sob and lifting her arm to clean a tear with the sleeve. She doesn't want Santana to know that she cried. "I didn't even notice you," she says a little sharply and leans her hand so that she can help her standing up.

Santana rolls her eyes again when she sees it because her first thought is that Brittany shouldn't even be allowed to touch her. Well, eventually she takes advantage of her to stand up. At least she's being useful for once.

"Then be more careful next time." She complains as she stands up completely. As soon as she's face to face with Brittany though, she notices her sad wet eyes which are so unusual on her face. "Did you cry?" She asks hesitantly.

"I don't think you actually care about the answer, seen the way you treated me." Brittany snaps, her voice sounding sad and bitter, not even slightly angry. Her heart is just broken for everything that's happening to her.

"I did …" She confesses a moment later, brushing casually with her hand on Santana's shoulder as she's ready to go away.

Santana wouldn't want to feel guilty about this. She just wants to walk away and ignore her, just like it's supposed to be.

"Why?" She asks unwillingly, not sounding mean for once.

"Why? Are you even asking? You are one of the main reasons. I just wanted to be your friend and get closer to you, make you realize that blood doesn't matter, because all of us are just what a Pure-blood is: people." Brittany says, fixing the long sleeves of her Ravenclaw uniform.

"I saw you; the wrackspurtstold me you're unhappy. I could see it in the way they flew around you and the dark blue color they were made of, you are sad too." She says reminding the day she had worn her revealing glasses to find out she wasn't the only one surrounded by them.

Santana arches her eyebrow, unable to understand all the weird explanation Brittany is giving to her. She just cocks her head.

"Why shouldn't I be happy?" She asks unsure.

Santana has everything.

_She has _to be happy.

Why shouldn't she?

"Your eyes tell truth for you while you lie to yourself. You have to admit you'd want more." Brittany says, tilting her head on the left and staring into Santana's dark eyes. "You would want someone who could stand you long enough to stick around, but you can't find anybody because you keep on treating people like they don't matter," she adds, he pupils slowly getting blown and darker as she continues, "Tell me I'm wrong."

Santana immediately shakes her head. She already has someone to keep close to herself: Kurt, Sebastian, Harmony. What is that supposed to mean? That she needs someone _special_?

"Well, that is just casualty," she answers, proudly rational, "I couldn't really solve this problem even if I truly had it."

"Why not?" Brittany asks, surprised. "Just take a look around, there are hundreds of boys in here-" She says, spreading her arms and pointing to the population of Hogwarts.

"Boys?" Santana asks unsure, before she's biting her lower lip. Not that Santana didn't have fun with some of the best and well-known boys in Hogwarts – except for gays – but she believe that is not the point of their conversation. "I thought we were talking about someone special. Just a boy isn't exactly what you meant, is it?" She asks, having no idea why she can't help but continue this conversation.

"Are boys enough? Are so nasty that you'd want to get it on with a girl?" Brittany asks, a challenging gaze newly appearing on her features.

Santana sends daggers through her eyes to her.

"That's not what I meant." She says despiteful. "I meant that someone special doesn't need to be your boyfriend or sentimental stuff. It can be anybody and it doesn't have to do with relationships inevitably."

"Well, I believe that sooner or later one finds his special someone with whom to share feeling and … sex too." She would want to keep it, but it's out before she can hold it. And then, it's just a conversation, so what's wrong if she just spills out her ideas about it?

Santana lifts an eyebrow at that because she has always thought Brittany was pretty innocent. And again, why the hell did she even imagine how Brittany was before?

The words sex really doesn't suit her face.

"Are you telling me … I should find someone to have sex with?" Santana asks surprised, wondering why she is even wasting her time on things she shouldn't care about.

Brittany nods and Santana is more confused than ever: she would have never thought that such an innocent girl could deal with sex so lightly.

For some reasons – maybe because she's too surprised from the conversation and also from the way Brittany's now dark blue eyes are staring at her – Santana feels the urge to walk away, as far from her as possible. Her body has just sensed an uncomfortable unwanted shiver and she has no intention to satisfy it.

"I gotta go." She cuts, without looking at her, as now staring at the pavement. "I-I've got a lot of things to do and no more time to waste." She tightens her fists because she has no idea what's making her stutter like this: it's not something she's used to, so she pushes it away.

"I thought you were interested in this conversation …" Brittany keeps on provoking her while Santana slowly realizes that this girl standing in front of her is not really how she thought she was.

She has to keep from looking up and meet her gaze. She doesn't want to do it. The only thing she needs right now is to breathe, possibly not the same air as Brittany S. Pierce, Ravenclaw.

"No, I'm not." Santana answers fast and this time she manages to pull it out. "You're wrong and I just don't." It's their last words before she can walk beside her – after she's managed to move – wondering how the hell they've got from insults to … _that_.

Brittany follows her with her gaze as she walks away, just like Santana had done days ago with her, along that hallway.

/

"Someone isn't paying attention anymore …" Sebastian's voice perfectly gets to Santana's ears and she is forced to look up from the pavement.

"Never mind, she's got her reasons I guess." Kurt whispers, sitting beside him on the couch as he leans over Sebastian's neck to kiss his skin.

Santana winces, sitting on the coach in front of them and then rolls her eyes, trying to go back to her bitchy personality for a moment to prove Sebastian wrong.

"I'm just tired." She comments, trying to ignore the way her gaze is attracted to Kurt's soft lips pressing onto Sebastian's skin. "I think I need to get some rest."

"How come?" Sebastian asks, startling when Kurt bites him suddenly. "There's no examination comin-_ouch_." He turns to Kurt and slaps his head softly. "What did I tell you about bites?"

"I only get to bite your-"

"Don't even think you can complete the sentence." Santana cuts him before he does. "The last thing I need right now is watching at your Gayest of Gay Shows."

She gets the boys' attentions on her and just shrugs, ignoring the fact that what she said doesn't really make sense. Kurt and Sebastian _are_ gay.

"You don't need gay shows, huh?" Sebastian asks, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. "Kurt, it looks like someone here has got sexuality doubts."

Kurt nods immediately, while Santana's jaw drops like she is shocked and offended at the implication.

"Of course, living long wand, what is making you think of such a stupid thing?" Santana asks sharply as she stares at the way Sebastian shifts Kurt's hand to pull it between his legs. It makes Kurt flush with embarrassment as he tries to pull it away, but Sebastian holds it tightly between his fingers.

"My wand is surprisingly long, I agree," Sebastian smirks, "Kurt might tell you about it, but that's not the point," he leaves Kurt's hand so that Kurt can't pull it back to himself, "I swore I saw you getting turned on by this other days." He implies and Santana hates it when he does because he's usually always right about her – just like Santana is always right about him.

"You're wrong." Santana replies, looking around. "I can't really see why I'm supposed to find whatever you and Porcelain are doing interesting." She says, crossing her arms to her chest.

"You should tell me. What can I know?" Sebastian asks as Kurt tries to pull away completely, but Sebastian is holding him too tightly for him to escape.

"I'm not interested in this conversation either." Santana adds then, knowing that the only reason why she hasn't gone from here yet is that she feels lazy.

"Of course." Sebastian snaps immediately while Kurt gives up on his escape and just lets Smythe cuddle him. "You've got too much stuff on your mind now, don't you?"

Santana's gaze flies immediately over him and her eyebrows arch at the words: she couldn't help but notice how implying he sounded again.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asks and when Kurt hides his face into the crook of Sebastian's neck, she just _knows_ they've spent lots of their precious afterglow time gossiping about her.

"Oh nothing," Sebastian answers ironically, lifting a hand to start patting over Kurt's soft hair. "You shouldn't really worry about it, I was just innocently making a hypothesis."

Sebastian knows how to lie, but Santana can see what game he is playing. It's just the way he acts to get some attention. Like this, the person who he is talking to starts doubting about things that were certain about two seconds ago.

Santana isn't sure she actually cares about what Sebastian is implying, but maybe it would be better if she stopping him from spreading false rumor about her.

"You shouldn't make suggestions about people," she says sarcastically, "it's rude and you don't have many chances to understand what goes through people's mind because you seem to think quite differently from the rest of the world."

This time it's Sebastian's turn to lift his eyebrows, as he stops brushing Kurt's head.

"Hey." He complains. "I _always_ understand what goes through people's mind."

"Of course you do." Santana answers annoyed. She's lost any kind on interest at the joke because she has no time to waste on Sebastian's vain attitude, knowing that Smythe is actually able to talk about himself _for hours_ if one lets him.

She starts thinking about things her mind can't (_doesn't want to_) identify: an abyss that looks like the sky; and the sky has never been so deep into Santana's eyes like it is right now.

Unluckily for her, right when she had thought Sebastian was going to ignore her, since Kurt is kissing his neck again, Sebastian talks, like he doesn't want this conversation to end up just yet.

"It's horrifying," He parrots her quote, "I can exactly tell what you're thinking." He groans, turning to the girl while Kurt sighs and wrinkles his lips for the interruption.

"Wouldn't want to anguish you, slimy snake-"

"Which is exactly what you are too." Sebastian cuts her ironically, but Santana just shakes her head.

"But Lady Hummel might start becoming frustrated if you keep on bothering me while he's trying to get your attention." She hopes the provocation is enough for Sebastian to just stand up, grab Kurt and pull it into a corner so that he can punish him for being such a distraction during the conversation.

"I'm sure that Kurt knows this is worth the wait." Kurt nods beside him, sighing, and he relaxes on the couch, playing with Sebastian's uniform. "What were you thinking about so intensely?"

Kurt leaves the material immediately, his eyes flying to Santana and filling with the fire of gossip. Sebastian's allusive voice has totally got his attention and now he looks like he wants to know every single thing that's going on into Santana's mind.

"M-me?" Santana asks, like the question makes any sense since it's just the three of them in the room. "Nothing."

From the look Sebastian and Kurt share, Santana is sure that her stuttering was enough to prove that she is thinking about something she shouldn't think about. About someone actually. Sooner or later, she will have to admit that she can't take those innocent eyes out of head, and not even the way they've turned darker, like she never thought they could.

But yet, she doesn't feel like admitting it now.

"Yup, you." Sebastian answers knowingly as he wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Tell me that you weren't thinking of something completely wrong that you shouldn't talk about. I've been investigating over you lately."

Santana swallows and crosses her arms tighter to her chest defensively.

"Oh really?" She asks ironically, "Do you actually that it doesn't surprised me? I can see that Kurt is quite dissatisfied later, and I guess this is due to the fact that you pay more attention to me than to him?"

Kurt nods and giggles collaborative.

"I didn't think you liked girls." He complains, wrinkling his lips towards his half-boyfriend.

Sebastian gazes at him briefly, but it seems like he's too busy with bothering Santana to give Kurt the usual _I like you, so I surely like girls_. For once, he's going to avoid that.

"I'm sorry if I insist, babe," he says sharply, "but I'm starting to believe _Santana_ is the one who likes girls."

Santana widens her eyes in surprise, but she doesn't move anyway, and Kurt does the same, lifting a little from the couch to look at him better. Sebastian smirks at him and Kurt sits back again, obediently.

"I'm sorry, what?" Santana asks, trying not to look unsure anyway. "I have no idea why you've thought of such a stupid thing and-"

"I said I have been investigating and I meant that." Sebastian cuts. "I saw what you do with your eyes. I won't believe anything you say."

Kurt stares between them, smiling curiously and anxious to know where this conversation is heading too. He's also looking for some gossip clearly, maybe to spread it.

Santana blinks then, searching for the right way to deny, both to Sebastian and herself.

"I'm just telling the truth." She says, trying to make her voice sound strict, but the fact that Kurt's face is turning into pure joy makes her understand that it's not really working. "Nothing of what you just said can be even remotely true. If I were Kurt, I'd feel offended by the fact that you find more interesting checking on me instead of enjoying his kitten licks."

Kurt nods at the words and he starts pulling Sebastian's arm right when the tallest boy is about to reply.

"C'mon, Bas," he whispers, winking at Santana, "let's go somewhere else …"

Santana is sure she has never loved Kurt more. She's always thought Kurt's personality was weaker than theirs, but right now, she _loves_ him for his sensibility. Sebastian looks still hesitating, like he really can't think of giving in on this conversation.

The next moment, Santana sees Kurt leaning towards Sebastian's ear to whisper something she can't ear. Sebastian's body stiffens and that's enough to make understand what game Kurt is playing.

"Okay …" Sebastian swallows and looks up to Santana again. "This is playing dirty, you can't team up against me!" He complains but Kurt lifts his leg and wraps it around Sebastian's crotch.

"I guess Kurt and I really are an awesome team." Santana snaps, smiling happily at the idea that the conversation has shifted from that uncomfortable topic. "We can easily win over you, Smythe."

As Sebastian leans forward to complain, Kurt grabs his face into his hands and kisses him hungrily - which really doesn't surprise Santana - forcing him to shut up.

"_I hate you_." Sebastian whispers to Kurt as soon as they part, and then he looks at Santana. "In fact, _I hate both of you_. Don't think you're going to escape this conversation forever, Sanny." He snaps while he stands up from the couch and grabs Kurt's arm, pulling him and forcing an annoyed moan.

Santana just nods while she wears a relieved smile and stares at them as they walk away, Sebastian pushing Kurt in need.

The moment when they disappear is when Santana relaxes her back against the couch, sure about the fact that now no one is going to read into her eyes anxious to find something that shouldn't be there. This time, the stream of thoughts into her head is so spontaneous that she can't hold it.

She can recognize those eyes into her thoughts and especially the fast shift in those irises: from light innocent blue to dark deep blue around a dim light she wouldn't have expected from her.

A few moments go by before Santana realizes what she's thought.

"_She wouldn't have expected …_"

These are the words she focuses on.

The reason why they get her attention is because it means that _she was_ expecting something, which is bad because she isn't even supposed to think about it or _her_ actually.

She shakes her head.

Kurt had given her a chance not to think about it, pulling Sebastian far from her, so why should Santana waste his effort (well, if Kurt actually considers an effort making out with his almost boyfriend)?

She makes up her mind: Brittany S. Pierce has been stuck in her mind too much for today.

/

"What happened?" Tina Cohen-Chang asks, leaning towards her in the Great Hall. Brittany doesn't even notice Tina has been trying to talk to her for a few minutes now, until the girl tugs her to get her attention.

She turns to her, with her questioning blue eyes and arching her eyebrows in confusion.

"What's going on?" She asks, instead of answering Tina's vain question.

Tina winces just like she had and Brittany doesn't realize she's been parroting her almost.

"There's something weird." Tina nods towards the Slytherins. When Brittany follows her gaze, she realizes she hasn't been as good as she thought. Tina is pointing to Santana Lopez and the awkwardly thoughtful expression on her face; which means she managed to understand perfectly where Brittany was looking to before.

She has spent the last days wondering about their last encounters and she has started understanding more the looks she has shared with Santana. When they were along the hallways, while they exchange those ambiguous words, she had come out to her in a way she'd never even considered before. Her body felt something new. She spent most of her life living in a bubble of pure innocent but she has to admit now – no matter how annoying it is -, Santana manages to make her shiver somehow.

A fine prove of it might be that while Brittany is looking at Santana right now too, as she thinks about this stuff she manages to move inside her, she has to press her legs tightly together. Santana's eyes have suddenly lifted to meet hers across the Hall.

Her eyes get lost into the black deep abyss as she can read something into it. She doubts that Santana has casted some spell on her because, according to what she says, even wasting some of her time on making a potion for Brittany would have been unforgivable.

So maybe Brittany should start surrendering at the idea that the wetness between her legs has nothing to do with spells, curses or things like that; it's just about Santana. She is starting to find everything about her attractive: her body, her dark eyes, her face, her black hair …

She doesn't know what it feels like, it's a brand new sensation: until now, she's always been a pretty innocent girl, nothing like what she is feeling right now; it's sort of like fire, exploding into her chest and down her abdomen until it meets into a second detonation which is going to spread it through her veins soon, making her feel _alive_, more than ever.

When Santana turns her thoughtful gaze elsewhere, Brittany knows that she has to do something about this. She doesn't want the feeling to disappear.

/

She walks along the empty and lost hallway (it's so dark that it's almost scary, but she can see the shape of the other girl), following her like she's her shadow: Santana is here, a few steps away from her and some gazes along the Hall have been enough for her to understand exactly what is happening. She won't let her deceive her this time.

Before she can finish the thought, Santana's body is pressed against the wall, firm and stiffened, almost covered with Brittany's taller one. Brittany's arm is strong over her shoulder and her hand was pressed hard into the wall.

She stares directly into Santana's eyes, noticing how confused she looks. It's not only confusion though. It's surprise too, and Brittany can't tell if it's a positive or negative kind of.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Santana stutters and it's already usual to hear her stuttering, while she tightens her shoulder like she wants for the wall to swallow her down.

"Tell me you don't like it." Brittany whispers, her voice so low, like she'd never even imagine it could be. "Tell me you don't like it and I'll let you go."

She needs for her to say it because this thing has been hanging between them for who knows how long and it has to stop somehow; the despise, the tension, it had nothing to do with blood or Houses. Santana must know this as much as Brittany does.

Santana's eyes speak for her as she stares into Brittany's. They speak so much louder than her mouth: she is trying to complain, to tell her that she wants her to get off of her immediately, not to touch her like this. Brittany can read every single thought into her head and it has nothing to do with spells.

"I'm not hearing you speaking, weirdly." She whispers, ironical and hoarse – she had never thought she could speak like this – while her pale face, now red with patches, shifts to move closer to Santana's.

"Pierce!" Santana yells, but she's unable to move or fight when Brittany's pink lips press on the dark skin of her neck, vibrating just to part and tasting her harshly.

She would go crazy.

She would scream insults in Spanish, uncontrolled and maybe this time she would also put her hands on Brittany because she shouldn't even dare _looking_ at her, not to mention _this_.

She would do that.

It would only be the most natural an obvious thing to happen.

The problem is that the moment when Brittany's lips have opened, brushing her skin with a good-smelling breath to close again over Santana's skin, Santana has felt every single possible feeling in the world: a moan had escaped her lips as she feels anxiety, pleasure, dissatisfaction, repressed anger, surprise and so many other things she isn't able to list.

How can she even properly _think_ when something like this is happening?

Brittany's lips repeat the motion once again, harder while her hand slides off of the wall to grab Santana's hip firmly. Santana has now lost any cognition about what's happening and _why_ it is happening.

"Brittany …." It comes out of her mouth more like a moan when she wanted to complain, when Brittany starts biting her neck, starting slow and tenderly, but then doing it again, harder until Santana is shivering (it's not really about pleasure, it's because of the risk of it, when pain is right here, ready to pop up, like it doesn't want to knock on her door but it finds other ways to make the victim understand its presence).

"Shhh … I don't want to stop …" Brittany whispers and it's not like Santana's moans or voice. She sounds like he perfectly knows what she is doing and how appealing her voice sounds to the other girl's ears right now.

"Y-you should …" Santana complains, but she doesn't sound that convincing, so little that Brittany's hand goes down slowly, her fingertips brushing along the warm skin of Santana's thighs, left uncovered by the short skirt of the uniform.

The difference of temperatures between their bodies makes Santana startles, forcing her to arch her back against the wall, so that she's now pressing her waist forward, searching for a better contact. Brittany's lips on her neck seem to imitate the brush her finger, or maybe that's the opposite; Santana doesn't manage to give a meaning to all this, not when Brittany's tongue and fingers are moving on her skin. She can't really think about Houses and blood now.

The contact is wet and sharp, and it almost scratches Santana's skin, since she's not used with this lack of kindness, and at the same time it's a pleasant brush, and she would have never imagined that the innocent-eyed girl could be so good at this just because her eyes turned deep blue.

She hasn't got a lot of the time to think about how everything happened though, because Brittany's fingers are moving up and brushing the inside of her thighs with their full length and not only the tip.

The moment when she just relaxes into the touch of this kind but firm hand is short though: her face comes to meet Brittany's, since once she's finished working over her neck, she's moving her mouth to where she is really headed to.

Santana has stopped fighting by now.

When Brittany's lips press on hers, another shiver runs through her body, flaming her chest, but moving downward fast: her waist is lower belly is suddenly fired up like it has never been before, not ever with Puckerman or Evans, or the other guys; it almost makes her muscles tremble at the intensity of the sensation and, luckily, she is pressed against the wall because Brittany's lips are parting and she feels like passing out.

Santana is shocked when she realizes that her own tongue is hooked around Brittany's, making the girl moan at the touch, her voice making Santana's mouth vibrate from the inside. Their heads tilt synchronized, too much to be real during a first kiss, and it all deepens all of a sudden.

Brittany is trapping her into the wall, but she also knows that Santana isn't going to escape anyway; she gets lost in the deep warm cavity of her mouth and she pushes her hand up along Santana's leg, until she reaches her crotch, barely lifting the material of her panties and trailing back from the kiss abruptly.

"I'm not that bad now, am I?" She whispers maliciously, brushing her skin with knuckles, her fingers hooking the panties.

"No, you're not …" Santana murmurs, arching her eyebrows like she hasn't figured out yet what's the sense of the question now. She was going to answer that she is, but she thought that smug reply was going to interrupt everything. And she doesn't want Brittany to stop, not now. Her lovely fingers, her pleasant mouth, and everything Santana is enjoying like she's never thought she would make it worth it.

"I thought I was …" Brittany whispers again, sounding allusive, so low that Santana had never thought she could sound like, and her fingers trail back, so fast that Santana's panties slap her skin and make her sigh with a sudden need.

And right when Santana is about to ask her why she is doing this – even though she probably knows the answer – she is forced to hush and bite her lower lip because Brittany's hand is shifting fast, two fingers pressing and stroking in circles over Santana's lips, making her realize how tense and wet she is already.

She hates this feeling, and yet she's sure that it's what Brittany feels every day. Aside from excitement, the pleasure, moans, the heat, Santana feels defeated; she feels _humiliated_ from the way Brittany has made her submissive and she's making her shiver with no dignity, the one she is supposed to have for being so fierce; and that's what Brittany must feel like everytime that Santana looks down at her, everytime she – Santana doesn't even know what she is thinking about anymore, not when Brittany's fingers have started pressing on her clit, brushing on it repeatedly, with no hesitation.

She no idea how she manages that, but she finds the strength to look into Brittany's eyes, just to find out that Brittany is looking at her too, like she wants to enjoy the pay-back while he fingers moves slowly downward. Brittany is getting her revenge because she thinks it isn't fair that she has to cross her legs under the table for how wet she is if Santana doesn't do the same; not that she has too though, right now it's quite evident how wet Santana is for her too, her body trembling with need, which only means Brittany is winning over her.

And yet, she also know Santana is hating herself for giving up like this.

Her lips meet again, less gentle, hungrier than they should actually be.

"Would I make your day better," Brittany whispers hotly inside Santana's mouth while her fingers trace small circles on her skin, "if I'd just leave you alone?"

Santana can't help but answering with a frustrated moan: she doesn't care about it now, she doesn't even remember what she said to Brittany in the past because the Ravenclaw is driving her crazy.

"No, you-no," she mutters confusingly when Brittany's hand stops because she's clearly waiting for an answer, "You wouldn't-" she gets cut when Brittany presses her mouth onto hers again. Her tongue slides in easily, brushing the insides of Santana's mouth roughly, spoiling it, tasting it as she enjoys something Santana shouldn't even allow.

Her brain seems like it's exploding when Brittany's hand pulls away to rest on her hip, with no brush, just grabbing it. She pushes her back and Santana hits the wall – she didn't even realize Brittany had trailed her back from it – while her legs spread instinctively, in anticipation, before she can even understand what's going on.

Brittany grins at the movement, keeping on looking straight into Santana's eyes while she presses on her hips to guide her better. Santana can't really understand the message and then Brittany's hands move to press on her shoulders.

And then, Santana's body slides down slowly until her ass hits the floor. Her eyes are open, but she isn't really looking. She's lost in some sort of trance that has nothing to do with hypnosis or magic.

Brittany readily imitates the movement, bending on her knees before she's leaning forward, covering Santana's small body with her own. Her lips brush together again, needy, but Brittany's teeth come in a moment later, closing around Santana's lower lip and making her moan in frustration because – _she hates herself for this_ – she won't manage to deny for too long the satisfaction she needs to her body (she's too wet now and her muscles are starting to tense with need to get touched).

"Don't be impatient," Brittany giggles lightly, "there's no rush, isn't that right?" She asks, going down with her hand again and stroking her thigh with her fingertips like she had done before.

That's not enough.

"No, there isn't." She answers obediently, suffering at the thought of being left like this. She needs this and she doesn't want Brittany to leave no. "No, there's no rush-" She stops immediately when Brittany's fingers reach her clit again, brushing it over her panties while a nasty smirk appears over her usually soft and innocent face.

With a fast steady movement of her hands, Brittany grabs Santana's legs and spreads them apart. Santana doesn't fight her, not even a bit. In fact, she only gets embarrassed when she realizes she's moving her own hand between her legs.

She stares at Brittany's smug smirk while she looks at the way Santana's hand is moving over the material to stroke her clit. Her eyes get caught by the small wet patch spreading over the material and Santana moans, already satisfied in anticipation, when she sees her bend her back to lean forward.

"Do you want me?" Brittany whispers and her breath is hot as it hits the spot between her legs. "Do you want me, Lopez?" She asks, almost parroting the way Santana called her Pierce, "You don't seem to think too much about my blood now, do you?" She asks ironically while Santana's legs just spread further, asking silently for Brittany to give what she needs as she keeps on jerking off in front of her.

"No, no, I-" He murmurs, stopping right when Brittany bends more, almost reaching her.

It's pretty clear that Brittany wants to show her that she has find a way to shut her.

And it's working.

She leans her neck until she manages to press her mouth over Santana's wet folds, still covered by her panties, thought the material is soaked and now it is completely press against Santana's throbbing pussy. When the tip of Brittany's tongue, Santana's fingers move faster over her clit, so instinctively that she can't stop it. She strokes it faster while she is trying to keep from moaning, but it's getting to hard.

Brittany's long fingers grab at the material and Santana shivers as she feels her pulling it away to leave her pussy bare and exposed to her eyes.

She doesn't even manage to look down at the way Brittany is staring at her wet sex, hypnotized like she's never seen such a beautiful thing in her entire life. Her eyelids are wide open, her eyes are blown.

She can't see her. She has leant her head back as the muscles of her body are starting to shake and her eyes are closed, as she feels more satisfied just to feel Brittany's breath between her fold. But she knows that this isn't going to feel like enough for long.

"_Pierce …_" She whispers, while her own hand slides under the panties and the other goes downward too to search for Brittany's hair.

When she manages to reach it, she grabs her head and pushes it forward, but Brittany is steady and firm enough not to allow it, just because she likes what she sees.

"_Pierce …_" She murmurs, hating the challenging tone she doesn't manage to keep because she knows Brittany might make her pay by leaving her completely dissatisfied.

"_Brittany_," She corrects and the way her voice vibrates makes Santana shiver and moan in need, "I guess you can call me Brittany by now." Even the sarcasm in her voice sounds so fucking hot to Santana's ears that it makes her legs shake.

"_Britt,_" She even says, in a moan that sounds like need. "_Britt_, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" Brittany's nails stroke teasingly her pussy lips, making her groan even more frustrated when she just needs to get pleased.

"_I want to hear you_," Brittany repeats and Santana has no idea what to do: she's pressing and brushing over her clit nervously, her chest inflates and deflates evidently, her legs spasm and _nothing_ seems to be enough.

She doesn't know what Brittany wants from her.

Santana is _already_ making sure she hears it and she can't keep it anymore.

"_Britt, Britt, Britt _…" She moan all over then, never stopping, not even for a moment, unable to understand if this is what she wants, just hearing her name, but Brittany seems to notice because she makes it clear.

"No," She answers, "I want you to beg for it …" She whispers, pulling out the tip of her tongue to lick over her pussy, but still hesitating.

Santana moans again and she pressures her head, uselessly though because Brittany seems quite determinate not to give her anything before she does what she said; and Santana wouldn't want this, she would _never_ want to do such a thing, to stand such an humiliation, if it wasn't for the fact that she's never felt this turned on in her entire life.

"_Please_," Comes out of her mouth surprisingly because she's pretty sure she has never begged before, "Please," she even repeats, and her jaw would have dropped at hearing herself pronouncing the world, if she weren't too busy with jerking off and moaning.

Thanks to all the existing wizards in the world, Brittany can't resist any longer, either. Santana looks down to stare at the way her smirk is softening in something more familiar and she slows her own fingers down when she sees Brittany leaning over her.

Brittany's tongue presses inside her, licking eagerly, so much for the innocent girl she's always been in her eyes; right now she's slowly pressing her fingers beside her tongue, spreading Santana's pussy, so that she can enjoy every single touch.

Santana wants to scream, she needs it, but she can't: even if the hallway is quite isolated and empty, it's still public and she doesn't want people to find about this. Not with Brittany, not with a girl.

And yet she feels so many things burning into her: Brittany's perfect fast tongue is fast and slow alternatively, and it's just amazing, just _right_.

"Oh Britt …" She murmurs when she realizes that no matter how amazing she feels at the sensation, it isn't enough yet. Luckily for her, Brittany must be sort of enthusiastic about what she is doing because she doesn't make her beg this time.

Her hand moves to run over her body, until she goes to her lips. She presses against Santana's mouth and Santana widens her eyes. But a second later she's wrapping her lips around Brittany's fingers, not even slightly bored at her own taste on them, while she sucked eagerly, still a little lost in pleasure that doesn't seem even remotely real.

Brittany's hand slides away quite soon though (and Santana wonders if this is another punishment) to just go back to where it was and start tracing her pussy and play with her dripping fold (and yes, she is still enjoying torturing Santana).

"_Britt, please._" She pleads directly, not even care about her pride anymore, not when she has already lost most of it by now.

Brittany isn't kind when she does and Santana is _thankful_ for that.

She presses two fingers inside her body, hooking them immediately while Santana's muscles wrapped tightly around them and Santana pulled her own hands off of her clit so that Brittany can press her tongue and mouth there instead, starting to suck on the little bud of pleasure that is making Santana's body whimper with need.

Santana's fingers press through Brittany's hair and when she presses to make her suck better, Brittany obeys this time, while she is still fucking her with her fingers.

It's probably because of all the waiting and teasing, but Santana's body is already on the edge, it's _begging_ to let go and just relax after all of the tortures Brittany pulled it through. When Brittany's fingers arch, pressing continuously against that perfect spot inside her, Santana loses any control over her discretion.

Her moans turn into screams of _Britt-yes-there-huh_ and her hand presses more firmly on Brittany's head, actually for an instinct because Brittany is already doing her best, fucking her and sucking her like she can't get enough of her skin. The two fingers along, so long and perfect, never hesitating in the movements, are making her feels so full like she has never felt with any of the guy; she has never felt _such a pleasure_ with anyone else before.

Her back arches again and this time, before she can realize, her body stiffens and relax when a long and loud _Britt_ comes out of her mouth, right while she is covering Brittany's fingers with her cum.

The last thing she remember about this afternoon is the soft touch of Brittany cleaning her up, like she wants to erase the harsh way she had been fucking her before; it's just a soft wet brush.

/

The sun has turned dark.

It seemed evil while Santana was passing her fingers through Brittany's blonde hair, knowing that the rays of the sun warming their skins are just a weak imitation of the shining gold strands she's stroking.

This time, there aren't any walls behind her back, but just a soft mattress welcoming her and the body she's holding tightly. She wouldn't have expected to feel at ease with her naked body pressed into Brittany's.

She is thinking about that time.

She is thinking about all the times that came after.

She thinks about all the times Brittany didn't need to act differently to get her attention, because Santana has always been mad about her.

But she had been too stupid to admit it and Brittany had been brave enough to open her eyes and pay her back.


End file.
